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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22598530">Ça ira</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin'>theonlytwin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Disco Elysium (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 14:41:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22598530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ANALYST: He’s stable, probably going to wake up soon.</p><p>MEMENTO MORI: He still may die.</p><p>STARGAZER: Perhaps that’s what he wants. </p><p>SACRE COEUR: What we want is sometimes bad for us.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shinbi34's Recommendations</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>kim has less stats because he's less of a disaster</p><p>check end notes for a list of stats</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You spend two restless nights beside Harry Du Bois, woken by every moan and gasp.</p>
<p>You sleep fitfully on the edge of his bed, which still smells of booze, despite fresh sheets Garte helped you put on after the first set were soaked with blood. </p>
<p>You sleep almost fully dressed, in case anything happens - even though it doesn’t. </p>
<p>You spend daylight hours writing reports in your room, with the doors open so you can hear him breathe, and nights curled into the miasma of sweat and mercurochrome. </p>
<p>You get so good, so attuned to the life of Harry Du Bois, that by the second night you’re not even sitting up to take his temperature and check his pulse - just a hand tucked against his brachial artery. . </p>
<p>ANALYST: He’s stable, probably going to wake up soon.</p>
<p>MEMENTO MORI: He still may die.</p>
<p>STARGAZER: Perhaps that’s what he wants. </p>
<p>SACRE COEUR: What we want is sometimes bad for us. </p>
<p>When he wakes, he’s fragile, but seems - maybe - glad to be alive.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>You transfer to Precinct 41 a month after Martinaise, just in time for Harry’s first day back. </p>
<p>You walk to the old silk mill together - you’ve been walking around Jamrock most days, learning and re-learning. </p>
<p>GENIUS LOCI: His feet seem to know the way. </p>
<p>JOIE DE VIE: The winter air is crisp, and it’s nice to walk for once.</p>
<p>“Hey, Kim,” he stops you, by the door into the building, takes a deep breath.</p>
<p>You settle into an attentive stance, hands folded behind your back.</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“You really think I can just - go back to being a cop?”’</p>
<p>You turn your eyes up, considering. </p>
<p>- ANALYST: “You might not be able to do anything else.”<br/>
- MEMENTO MORI: “If you quit, you’ll kill yourself in months.”<br/>
- OFFICER: “Despite everything, you’re one of the best detectives I’ve ever met.”<br/>
- ACE: “Let’s find out, partner.”<br/>
- <b>STARGAZER: “I don’t think you ever stopped.”</b></p>
<p>After a beat, he nods. He leads the way.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Harry is hounded with questions he can barely answer as soon as you enter C-wing. </p>
<p>Vicquemare waves you over, states that he is to be partnered with a newly promoted Minot. </p>
<p>He’s keeping his voice down, as if afraid of offending Harry.</p>
<p>“We were near enough to killing each other anyway,” he shrugs, “and you kept each other alive in a shootout, so, if you’re willing?” He shuffles some papers, flicks his eyes up, down. “You can have any partner you like, you know.”  </p>
<p>Kim looks across the room at Harry, sorting through what he had been told was his desk, dropping things into his pockets, the bin, turning papers over and reading them. </p>
<p>- WHISPER LIGHT: “You two were like a bad marriage.”<br/>
- QUICK DRAW: “I’d feel better if I could keep an eye on him.”<br/>
- <b>OFFICER: “I’ll be his partner.”</b></p>
<p>Harry glances up, towards them - that slightly preternatural sense he has sometimes, when he knows something is happening, or about to happen, that impacts him.</p>
<p>ACE: Wink so fast he’s not sure if you did. </p>
<p>You wink, quick as lightning.</p>
<p>Harry stares.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>You are partnered with a man who remembers barely anyone he’s ever met but knows the name of every backstreet and history of every building. </p>
<p>STARGAZER: The less emotional the memory the easier it is for him to recall. </p>
<p>You have to walk everywhere, unless Mack and Torson feel like giving you a lift, which isn’t often, but the walking - even the running - still brings joy. Seeing Harry limp along means he’s alive and well. </p>
<p>GEAR HEAD: OI GARÇON GET A NEW MC WE NEED TO BE FAST.</p>
<p>JOIE DE VIE: You can know Harry is alive and well and not be sweaty all the time.</p>
<p>MACHINIST: You could… confiscate a motor carriage. Like we did with the spinners.</p>
<p>ANALYST: Oh, great idea. Great, good PR, good look at your new precinct, with your new partner, idiots.</p>
<p>WHISPER LIGHT: Pretty sure Harry’s done worse.</p>
<p>GENTLEMAN: That doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do!</p>
<p>STARGAZER: You want to keep his high regard. </p>
<p>GEAR HEAD: You want to do better, make him better, obviously, but also THOSE HELIUM HEADLAMPS ARE JUST SITTING AT HOME. </p>
<p>OFFICER: A motor carriage will make you more respectable - but you have made yourself respectable with less.</p>
<p>So when three new Coupris Kinemas are delivered to the station, it’s a pleasant surprise.</p>
<p>“They’re for C-wing?” Jean confirms. </p>
<p>“Yup,” says the driver. “All paid up, paint job and all, for delivery to C-wing. Not the normal way you lot requisition stuff, is it?”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not,” Harry says. </p>
<p>“The shit you remember is baffling,” Jean tells him. </p>
<p>OFFICER: He remembers plenty of procedure - like song lyrics, it occupies a different part of the brain than names and faces. </p>
<p>Harry runs a hand over the hood of the nearest one. You’re itching to take it for a spin yourself - to see how the new model handles.</p>
<p>“Oh, there was this,” says the driver, handing a piece of thick cream cardboard to Jean. </p>
<p>He reads off the card, “I heard these are very disco.” He flicks the card into Harry’s hands - he fumbles but doesn’t drop it. “Who the fuck do you know that has the funds for three Kinemas?”</p>
<p>Harry frowns, for a moment, looks at you.</p>
<p>“Joyce?” he suggests.</p>
<p>You nod, and explain. “Joyce Messier, the Wild Pines representative we met during the Hanged Man case. She felt some responsibility for the casualties, I understand.”</p>
<p>“Not enough responsibility to sign her name, or get in touch with the RCM in any useful way?”</p>
<p>“That’s - not really her style,” Harry offers.</p>
<p>Jean’s eyes narrow. “Luitenant double-yefritor Du Bois, did you fuck the Wild Pines woman?”</p>
<p>“What? No!” He waves his hands. “No, no, she was just - really rich. Rich people are weird.”</p>
<p>“Not even during your memory erasing bender?”</p>
<p>That pulls him up, but he shakes his head. “No. Unless she was the world’s best actor. Even then, I don’t - no,” he gestures vaguely, looks at you. “No, right?”</p>
<p>- ANALYST: “Neither of us can account for all your movements over that weekend.”<br/>
- SACRE COEUR: “Maybe. In another life.”<br/>
- CHAMELEON: “I don’t think you’re her type.”<br/>
- STARGAZER: “I don’t think she’s your type.”<br/>
- <b>DISCOURSE: “No.”</b></p>
<p>Harry turns to Jean, as though this is definitive proof. </p>
<p>Jean rolls his eyes. “Well. Good. Anyway, you’re not allowed to drive. Kim, congratulations on your brand new MC.”</p>
<p>“Aww, c’mon,” Harry whines. </p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sorry, did you uncrash the last carriage you were responsible for? No? Then shut the fuck up.”</p>
<p>“It’s alright, Harry,” you pat him on the back. “I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Kim,” Harry sighs, mournfully.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>You solve cases. </p>
<p>Not every case that crosses your desk - but most of them. </p>
<p>Harry Du Bois is good at figuring out every answer - even to the questions you would have assumed were irrelevant, but turn out to be, with disconcerting regularity, to be part of some larger stereo investigation. </p>
<p>GEAR HEAD: He’s making you a better detective, garçon. A new, unruly engine in the machine of crime solving. </p>
<p>WHISPER LIGHT: And you’re making sure he doesn’t piss off as many people as he otherwise would. </p>
<p>OFFICER: You’re a good team.</p>
<p>QUICK DRAW: He’s good back up.</p>
<p>STARGAZER: He’s also fun.</p>
<p>You look across the cafeteria table - Harry is holding forth with a waiter about the necessity of a “banging soundtrack” to support customer enjoyment, waving a fork loaded with scrambled eggs.</p>
<p>You laugh, very quietly.</p>
<p>JOIE DE VIE: It’s nice to laugh.</p>
<p>***   </p>
<p>Winter is thawing. Resilient little flowers begin to appear between paving stones.</p>
<p>After you close the BURNED JOURNALS case, Harry asks if you still have those helium headlamps. </p>
<p>You smile, and invite him to come over next Tuesday night to attach them. </p>
<p>He comes with the spinners.</p>
<p>GEAR HEAD: HELL YEAH HARRIER!!!</p>
<p>“Are these - the same ones?”</p>
<p>“I got them back - ages ago. I swapped some stuff with Roy.”</p>
<p>OFFICER: What stuff?</p>
<p>ANALYST: You had helped clear out Harry’s apartment of trash, but also narcotics, psychotropics and intoxicants, which doesn’t mean he hadn’t found another stash. </p>
<p>You raise an eyebrow, and Harry shrugs, embarrassed - not nervous or worried, just faintly shamefaced.</p>
<p>“Like - old clothes and books and figurines. That Guilliame le Million poster, because the expression was starting to piss me off.”</p>
<p>MACHINIST: The signed and framed Guilliame le Million poster which had hung, pride of place, watching over the living room? The clothes, books and figurines which connected him to his past?</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to do that, Harry.”</p>
<p>“It’s not like - it’s not a gift, it’s what’s yours. You helped me out when I was at my shittiest and I’m just giving back what you gave up.”</p>
<p>“Still - your things.”</p>
<p>He shrugs, looking like he wants to light a cigarette. “They were things for - a person I don’t know. I don’t want to be that person. But, you, I know you, and want to - I mean, I don’t want to<i> be</i> you, that’s weird, but.” He shrugs, starts again, “I want the new person I’m being to be <i>with </i>you - um, you know, as partners, and maybe, uh, friends, if that’s - if that’s cool.” </p>
<p>QUICK DRAW: He’s sweating. His eyes are huge. His hands are knotted together - is he having a panic attack?</p>
<p>WHISPER LIGHT: He’s being vulnerable. It’s <i>adorable.</i></p>
<p>GENTLEMAN: Kiss his hand.</p>
<p>JOIE DE VIE: Bend him over the hood of the Kinema.</p>
<p>SACRE COEUR: Ask him to marry you!</p>
<p>ACE: Don’t do any of that! Be cool!</p>
<p>ANALYST: Cool people are often lonely.</p>
<p>OFFICER: You have to work with him for the foreseeable future - lets not fuck this up.</p>
<p>QUICK DRAW: Say something!</p>
<p>MEMENTO MORI: You would die for this man.</p>
<p>DISCOURSE: Definitely don’t say that!</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>DISCOURSE: Good enough.</p>
<p>Harry beams. </p>
<p>JOIE DE VIE: Maybe make out a little?</p>
<p>OFFICER: No!!!</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>You neither kiss nor fuck Harry Du Bois. </p>
<p>You work together - on the case of THE DOG IN A HAT, and THE CORRUPT CONDUCTOR, and THE RE-WRITTEN RULES, and other less memorable cases.</p>
<p>Harry still only has little glimpses of his past - but once he’s told something, he doesn’t forget it. Jean says he was always like that, “Like a camera with body odour.”</p>
<p>Trant theorises that his eidetic memory may have contributed to the curious nature of his amnesia. So much information, so much data - it either overloaded his brain or attracted the pale, somehow.</p>
<p>“Makes me wonder if we can talk about the pale having intention like an animal, or a different kind of sense, like a fungus. Like - is it feeding?” Harry asks, talking about his own sense of self like something that could have fed an unknowable entity.</p>
<p>WHISPER LIGHT: It doesn’t make Harry sick to think about the pale, the way it does you.</p>
<p>CHAMELEON: Couldn’t keep it together in front of a dead body, can in the face of the total annihilation of the known world. </p>
<p>SACRE COEUR: He’s human - individual human suffering has a different impact than thinking about the universe. </p>
<p>MACHINIST: The pale doesn’t have a smell.</p>
<p>“Kim?”</p>
<p>You look up.</p>
<p>“You alright, Kim?”</p>
<p>- MEMENTO MORI: “No.”<br/>
- OFFICER: “Yes.”<br/>
- <b>SACRE COEUR: “It’s strange to hear you talk about the pale as though it did not have a direct impact on your life.”</b></p>
<p>Harry looks at you - and it seems as though he is reading your mind. “It’s not - like I was doing that much with my life.”</p>
<p>Jean throws a pen at him. “Put a real in the sorry jar!”</p>
<p>“I didn’t even say sorry!”</p>
<p>“You were thinking it!”</p>
<p>Harry grumbles, shoves his hands into his pockets, fishes out a coin, flips it into the jar.</p>
<p>“Fine. I mean - I already had loads of - regrets and - whatever. A guy with his life in order doesn’t end up unconscious on a hotel room floor, right? That guy - he’s not gone, I could do all that shit again, but - I feel like - I have a clean slate. I’m figuring out stuff. I know enough to know that I didn’t know everything about myself before, and that’s alright.” </p>
<p>ANALYST: What has he learned about himself that he didn’t know before?</p>
<p>GENIUS LOCI: How much he loves this city.</p>
<p>STAR GAZER: Yes - but something else, too.</p>
<p>“Are you recommending the pale as a method of therapy?” Trant tips his head, considering.</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” Harry says. “I don’t recommend anything about my life to anyone.”</p>
<p>“Except your Mazovian politics,” Kim suggests.</p>
<p>“Your taste in music?” Judit offers.</p>
<p>“You spent twenty minutes this morning explaining why the dumplings you found on Hexin Street are the only food anyone should eat,” Jean tells him.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Harry says spreading his hands, “what do you want me to do? Apologise?”</p>
<p>Jean flips him off. </p>
<p>Judit darts a half-smile at you.</p>
<p>Harry turns to you and winks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In late spring, Harry officially recruits the little gremlin from behind the Whirling-In-Rags.</p><p>“Is he literate?” you ask.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In late spring, Harry officially recruits the little gremlin from behind the Whirling-In-Rags.</p><p>“Is he literate?” you ask.</p><p>“Course I’m fucking literate.” He scowls as Harry elbows him, and adds<i> “Lieutenant,”</i> with scorn.</p><p>“You need to get better at that,” Harry tells him. “Most officers aren’t as chill as Kim. None are as cool. Kim is, frankly, the model lieutenant.”</p><p>“Alright, calm down, homo.”</p><p>“Not an insult, Cuno,” Harry flicks his eyes at you, assessing - something. He should know by now that you don’t care about that kind of language. “Not accurate either - I’m bisexual.”</p><p>WHISPER LIGHT: Oh. <i>Oh.</i></p><p>STARGAZER: This is the thing he realised about himself. Remember the robe? The obsession with that nice young gigolo? The shoes? This is not a heterosexual man.</p><p>ANALYST: Who taught him about bisexuality?</p><p>JOIE DE VIE: Why wasn’t it you?</p><p>You realise you’re staring at Harry, who’s staring back. </p><p>SACRE COEUR: He told you for a reason.</p><p>JOIE DE VIE: He wanted <i>you</i> to know.</p><p>Cuno asks, loudly, “What, you wanna stick your dick in bicycle spokes?”</p><p>“It means attraction to more than one gender,” you tell Cuno, crisply.</p><p>“Huh,” he thinks about it. “That’s pretty tragic, piggo.”</p><p>“What?” Harry blinks at Cuno. “Why?”</p><p>“Because you’re like - a disaster. And you’ll be getting rejected by twice as many people.”</p><p>Harry runs a hand through his hair, looks at you again, but you’re still - reeling. </p><p>“Shut up, Junior Officer De Ruyter.”</p><p>***</p><p>You both spend the rest of the day showing Cuno the ropes, which is a pretty good way of distracting you from Harry’s revelation. </p><p>OFFICER: He’s going to piss off a lot of people, but has a better understanding of how the world works than a lot of adults. </p><p>ANALYST: Keeps him employed and off the streets. </p><p>SACRE COEUR: And exposed to some of the worst horrors of humanity.</p><p>GENIUS LOCI: He already was. This way he has methods of helping. </p><p>GEAR HEAD: He’s also very good at picking locks.</p><p>CHAMELEON: And making people underestimate him.</p><p>STARGAZER: Remind you of anyone?</p><p>GENIUS LOCI: All Revachol’s motherless children end up in roughly the same place.</p><p>GENTLEMAN: Perhaps, but you never swore this much.</p><p>QUICK DRAW: Harry is shoring up resources for the oncoming fight. It’s smart. </p><p>You watch him show Cuno the best way to sew a patch onto the reinforced vest juniors wear in the hotter months. </p><p>WHISPER LIGHT: It’s more than just smart - it’s admirable. You can count on one hand the number of cops you know who’d have the patience for this kid - you didn’t, when you met him.</p><p>“Ow, fuck,” Harry’s jabbed himself with a needle. </p><p>“Is the bleeding part of it?” Cuno asks, sarcastic. “Like is there some brutal tribal blood magic thing I have to do to be in the RCM, or something?”</p><p>CHAMELEON: Lean in.</p><p>“Officially, the RCM does not condone magic, blood or otherwise,” you tell him, “but you won’t find one of us who hasn’t bled into a uniform one way or another. Revachol favours her officers, and how would she know who is who if she hasn’t tasted?”</p><p>“That’s sick,” says Cuno, approvingly. </p><p>Harry’s looking at you like you’re the moon.</p><p>***</p><p>Cuno heads off after Harry buys you all a kebab for dinner, and at some point, when you’re doing paperwork, Harry disappears.</p><p>ANALYST: He would have said something before heading home, surely. </p><p>You find him on the smoker’s balcony - a narrow little terrace on the fourth floor which can fit all of three people at once and must be accessed by climbing through a window. </p><p>He’s almost finished a cigarette. </p><p>“I thought you were quitting.”</p><p>“I’m trying,” he says, and stubs it out. “Makes me feel smarter, though.”</p><p>When you get your own cigarette out, he produces a match, lights it with his thumbnail and leans in, cupping the flame with one hand. </p><p>ACE: He’s practiced that.</p><p>STAR GAZER: He’s practiced that for you.</p><p>“I still don’t know how you do it. One a day is harder than just quitting, isn’t it? Because you’re always thinking about it, always wanting?” He’s watching you as you inhale, eyes glittering.</p><p>WHISPER LIGHT: This is it.</p><p>ACE: You got this.</p><p>You let out a grey breath. You smile at Harry. “Aren’t we all? Always wanting?”</p><p>He stares at you, match still burning - the flame reaches his fingers and he drops it, shaking his hand.</p><p>QUICK DRAW: Did you break him?</p><p>SACRE COEUR: Were we wrong? Did we get this all wrong?</p><p>DISCOURSE: You don’t know what to say.</p><p>“I dream about you,” Harry blurts. “I’ve been having dreams about you. Not - uh - totally professional, platonic dreams but like - uh.” He slaps himself in the face, and that motivates you. </p><p>You take his wrist in your free hand, and step close. His pulse is panicked, his mouth hanging open - and you kiss his open mouth, just at the corner. </p><p>“Like this?” you ask, too close to see him, too close to do anything but kiss him again.</p><p>“Mmhm,” Harry mumbles, fingers curving around your neck, cradling your head.</p><p>You drop your daily cigarette to twist your hands into his ugly blazer. </p><p>JOIE DE VIE: You don’t need nicotine, you need <i>this.</i></p><p>WHISPER LIGHT: He’s so big - hands and biceps and thighs. Solid. Alive.</p><p>MACHINIST: He presses you back against the still sun-warmed brick, a leg between yours.</p><p>ANALYST: Hey, maybe slow down - you should talk about this.</p><p>GENTLEMAN: He already bought us dinner.</p><p>OFFICER: YOU ARE AT WORK. </p><p>QUICK DRAW: AT YOUR MACHO-ASS WORKPLACE. </p><p>You flatten your hands against his chest, press him gently away.</p><p>Harry staggers back, leans against the safety rail, hands clenched at his sides. “Sorry.”</p><p>“Put a real in the jar.”</p><p>He snorts. “No, but - that was - a lot.”</p><p>“No need to apologise, Harry,” you smile.</p><p>He blushes. “I - uh, I don’t think I’ve kissed anyone in - a long time. So, um. If I fuck up, tell me.”</p><p>“You haven’t. I just thought perhaps that here is not the best place for it?”</p><p>“Yeah! Yeah, do you wanna? Come over? Or not? Or - uh.” </p><p>Mack pokes his head out the window. “Hey, if you assholes aren’t smoking, get off the smoker’s balcony. There’s no fucking room for your faggy philosophy on the smoker’s balcony.”</p><p>“I’m actually bisexual,” Harry says, with a manic glee. </p><p>STARGAZER: This is going to be like the politics. He’s going to pepper it into conversations which have nothing to do with it from now on.</p><p>“Oh, hear that? Hear that noise? That’s the sound of me not giving a shit. Are you gonna let me smoke out here or not?”</p><p>***</p><p>You bring him back to your place.</p><p>He’s been here before, but wanders around like he hasn’t, looking at your books and art and fern. He touches the cover of one of your motor magazines, the straightens up, looks at you.</p><p>SACRE COEUR: He’s nervous.</p><p>QUICK DRAW: You’re nervous.</p><p>JOIE DE VIE: You don’t have to be! You could be making out!</p><p>DISCOURSE: Let’s ease into this. Start light.</p><p>“You said you’d been dreaming?”</p><p>DISCOURSE: You’re on your own, garçon. </p><p>“For a while. About you. I thought maybe it was just - you’re my best friend and we spend all our time together and I’m - you know - starved for human connection. But. You’re - amazing. You’re smart and patient and cool and calm and - tougher than maybe anyone I’ve ever met. And - really good at kissing. I know we work together and I’m,” he gestures to himself, “this, so if you want, we can - not, and I’ll go home and we can just - not. But. I want to. Be with you. If you want to.”</p><p>He shrugs, like he hasn’t just said the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard. </p><p>“Harry,” you ignore the desire to take your glasses off. “I want to.”</p><p>SACRE COEUR: There’s other things you mean to say, but you can’t.</p><p>JOIE DE VIE: You can only cross the living room, put your hands on his hips and kiss him, hot, hungry. He tastes like smoke.</p><p>He bends to you, arms around you, lets out a slow, quiet moan when you push him against the wall. You start to untuck his shirt and he shivers.</p><p>He lets you lead him to the bedroom and sit him on the bed. He stares up at you as you strip off your jacket and shirt, kick off your boots. </p><p>You stand in front of him, brush his hair back.</p><p>“If I’m going too fast, let me know.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” he says, dazed.</p><p>“Maybe you want to take your shoes off?”</p><p>“Um,” he says, and shakes himself a little, “yes.”</p><p>He struggles out of his snake-skin shoes, peels away the blazer. He starts on his shirt buttons, and you cover his hands with your own, stopping his motion.</p><p>“Slow,” you tell him, and crouch between his legs. You slide one button out, then another, revealing chest hair and heaving lungs. You kiss the skin you see. He lays a shaking hand on the back of your head.</p><p>WHISPER LIGHT: He’s big but gentle. </p><p>JOIE DE VIE: Kiss him again.</p><p>You kiss him again, and again, and undo his belt and find his cock, sweet and hard. </p><p>You shuck your pants, climb onto his lap. He grabs your ass, falls backwards onto the bed, pulling you down. Your glasses fall off, onto his face. </p><p>He laughs, and it makes you laugh.</p><p>STARGAZER: He loves you.</p><p>SACRE COEUR: You love him.  </p><p>You carefully fold your glasses and put them on the bedside. You reach around blindly for a moment, find the bottle of slick, pour some into your hand.</p><p>“You’re so smart,” Harry tells you, kissing your shoulder. </p><p>You sit up, smiling, shuffle yourself back onto his thighs.  </p><p>“You’re pretty, too,” Harry slides a hand up your belly. </p><p>“You are biased, officer.” You line your cocks up, thrust against him, dry but devastating.</p><p>“Uh - no, no, you’re pretty, Kim. You’re so pretty.”</p><p>You wrap your wet hand around your cocks. His fingers scrabble against your skin. It’s ecstatic.</p><p>***</p><p>You curl up beside him, after, put a hand on his arm - where the brachial artery is.</p><p>“I want to do right by you,” Harry tells you, pressing his mouth to your forehead. </p><p>“I want the same for you. Anything you want, tell me.”</p><p>“I kind of wanted you to fuck me,” Harry says, then, “fuck, pretend I said something charming.”</p><p>You grin. “The things you want can be charming.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Intellect<br/>Trivia - remember practical details<br/>Analyst - understand tricky situations, enjoy when things make sense<br/>Chameleon - slip into roles, critique the performance of others<br/>Discourse - hold conversations with aplomb</p><p>Physique<br/>Machinist - understand the material world and how it fits together<br/>Genius Loci - know the feel of the city under your skin<br/>Memento Mori - know that death is coming for us all<br/>Joie de Vie - find pleasure in life and your body</p><p>Motorics<br/>Ace - be the coolest fucker in Revachol<br/>Gear Head - fix, upgrade and improve things around you<br/>Whisper Light - pick up on fine details<br/>Quick Draw - be highly strung but still alive</p><p>Psyche<br/>Officer - know all the cop protocols, assert yourself among other officers<br/>Gentleman - understand etiquette, act with honour<br/>Stargazer - draw lines between disparate points<br/>Sacre Coeur - have a tender heart, feel the pain of others</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965363">One Last Ride</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanseDan/pseuds/DanseDan">DanseDan</a>
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